Can Get Some Satisfaction

It’s outrageously gorgeous outside today. Low 70s, sunny, pleasant breeze, just enough clouds to give the sky some character, and unnaturally low humidity for Illinois in late July. Today, I received an overwhelmingly positive yearly review at work. Yesterday, I whipped up a number of delicious dishes from yogurt to pizza, loaves of bread to vegetable soup, and topped off by putting away yet another gallon of dill pickles for the winter. Saw a delightful play at the Shakespeare Festival, Saturday evening. Will be going to Much Ado About Nothing on Wednesday (with a date, no less!), and starting next week, I’ll spend two successive weekends celebrating the marriages of close friends from college.

Here I sit on my… patio? Well, out back of my apartment, anyhow. I’m sipping a beer on a Monday evening, watching the wind play through a hodge-podge of potted plants. A solid month passed the halfway point of my thirty-first year, enjoying such uncommon July weather following one hell of a good workday that came on the heels of a beautiful weekend, and I find myself thinking, does anyone deserve such contentment? No doubt many do, but I can’t shake the feeling the world has been too good to me.

A social science heavy undergraduate degree, combined with a graduate program in community development and Peace Corps service certainly drove home the whole unworthy-of-my-privilege lesson, which I still fully recognize and stand by. But HOLY SHIT am I grateful for it! The depth of contentment I feel these days, the peaceful community I live in, the prosperity I enjoy, clean bill of health, supportive family, generous friends, unrivaled educational opportunities, expansive global adventures, varied skillset building professional development, and full practical use of the world’s preeminent, theoretical and legally codified, set of human rights (straight, white male of upper-middle-class-educated suburbia, sup?). Fair few in the current times are afforded so much. I note this fully aware, too, that life can get better.

My lifestyle is probably on the modest end of the spectrum by U.S. standards, though undoubtedly on the lavish end worldwide. And, I reveled just as much in the bounty of my daily life when I was on the lavish end of Woleai’s spectrum, yet the modest end worldwide. Reflecting on any of the happiest, most fulfilled times in my life says pretty clearly to me that material concerns aren’t so terribly important.

It’s the purpose. Just listened to a news story today, in fact, talking about how stress doesn’t affect people living a purposeful life in the same way as those less mindful of what they’re working/living for. That definitely matches my experience to date. I feel so much purpose, deep and rich purpose in my day-to-day, and it’s combined with clarity of vision to really see both my goals and how I intend to reach them. Swirl it all together with the belief that the World can-AND-will get better; well, then you have the most honestly satisfied, stable and sensational days I’ve known.

Taken altogether, I even have an answer to the logical question: what else could a person ask for? That more people could enjoy the same. Living the Dream. Hope you are, too.

Sunrise

"What do you expect?" The words pulled from his lips as a bent nail from weather beaten oak. "How am I supposed…? You come, demand these, things, as if it's poss--." Powerful winds swept in the vortex of his eyes, tumbling her questions, one's end over the other. "Fine. Okay," he rumbled, "What do I…?" Heavy lids closed, momentarily quelling the storm. One slow, surprisingly gentle intake of air, and twin hurricanes burst open. "I want animals to husband, land to steward, plants to grow, and a house to build." She might've thought that was all, but a flush of emotion on his cheeks belied more torrent.

"I want a woman to come into that house, take up the work of plants, land and creatures along side me. A woman to love. A woman to pour her love forth, and imbue the space surrounds us with her being. I want to push, challenge, fight, come back, find our rest together, make those separate selves more completely and deeply human as we each reveal the other to ourselves." His words grew quieter, yet only shook with the more power, "I want that we fill our home till the convergence of two hearts makes one, splits again, springs forth a child. To cradle, to care for, to teach, to raise to fledging. I want to watch that embodied Love fly from our home towards Freedom in the single most unique, rendingly beautiful, and common picture of loss and fulfillment."

No longer could his gaze be met, which had set upon her unblinking. She heard him turn his head towards the horizon, and his voice softened to broke canvas, "Through that loss, again to cling, one to the other, tend our home and selves knowingly and fearlessly into those finals days… beyond them." Hardly a whisper now, "What do I want?" She could hear his eyes once more upon her downcast face. "I want Life. A life. What else is there?" One hand to her breast, she retreated a half-step, drew closer. His breath came shallow, quivering, as his jaw absently chewed the sudden silence.

A weak, spring sun crept towards the eastern ridge's crest as slowly and timidly as she raised her chin. Morning light burned in her gaze the instant their eyes met, and he couldn't say for certain, to the day she buried him, from which source came the Fire.

Travel On

Late January in the year two thousand fourteen. Once again, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop in Bloomington, IL, reflecting on transition. Just a little ways down the page you can see the last time I sat, in this shop, and contemplated moving states and changing jobs, ‘round abouts May 2012.

Up until the second week of this month, I have been living in eastern Pennsylvania and working on a small agricultural community. Up until the second week of this month, if someone asked what I did, I’d tell them, “I’m a farmer, and some other stuff on the side—working with folks with developmental disabilities”. Definitely made me sound kind of interesting, different. Now if posed that question, I’ll say, “I coordinate a graduate program in community development at Illinois State University”. It’s definitely fancier, and—for the first time in several years—neither ‘student’ nor ‘volunteer’ are applicable terms for describing my occupation. Soon my bank account will be better situated for tackling my debts, and already my hands are softening as callouses fade into memory.

I left Kimberton, PA and Camphill for Bloomington-Normal, IL and the Stevenson Center, making the switch from community oriented agriculture/care-giving to community development/education focused administration. Left the sorta rural countryside for these little twin cities. Packed up my little bedroom in a twelve-person home and unpacked in a one-bedroom apartment of my own. Traded in my patched up jeans and flannel work gear for business casual slacks and button-downs. A five-minute each way walking commute turned into an hour-long mix of hoofing and busing it (hopefully soon to converted into a twenty-minute bike ride). Left behind a solid group of friends and pseudo-family for an as-of-yet undefined social landscape. My new co-workers are great, and I certainly have some friends among the faculty/staff here at ISU, but not quite to the point of a regular hey-let’s-kick-it-Saturday-night kind of friend you know? That’ll come, no doubt, but currently still in the midst of that transition.

Heading into this move, I was in better shape than I’d been for quite some time. Went through a break up over the summer, which left a big void. The relationship had been a major driving force in my move to PA, and I think that fact made staying in Kimberton a challenge. I wouldn’t arbitrarily live far from family. Illinois isn’t, in practical terms, that much closer to Idaho, but I’m here with more personal drive, which helps. Anyhow, I left the Village feeling very supported and appreciated—very solid closure. Spent some really quality time with friends, said my good-byes, boarded the train, and twenty-seven hours later pulled into Normal.

Being back here has been surreal in some ways, gratifying in others, challenging in a few (getting a driver’s license has been obscenely difficult), and overall positive. I love being in control of my food. Though I was fed incredibly well in Kimberton, cooking for myself is probably the best thing, most joyful part of my world right now. Reconnecting with friends here is a close second, and if I could spend more time doing so, it would probably at least tie cooking. Having a place of my own is pretty stellar, too. It’s getting fairly settled, and the process is delightful. Thinking about the approaching growing season and how I’ll plug into the local agriculture scene is similarly a delight.

I need some friends to hang with, and a kitchen table. Separately. Not the two together, but each individually. Though, bringing the two together is certainly a well-worn recipe for fun. Need to get the bike rolling again, too. Commuting via bus has its benefits, for sure, but I want more freedom.

Freedom! That’s the emotion. Following the offer for this job and, even more so, an amazing New Year’s vacation with friends from Micronesia, I’ve felt freer than maybe any other time in my life. Not just relieved of obligation but capable, fiercely capable. I can do stuff. I can make my life what I want it to be. I can attract a woman! Ha, well… we’ll see about that last part. Point is, that void I’d felt in PA carried along with it a certain dragging quality. I was so damned tired. Hanging out with friends, for the first time in my life, I had trouble keeping my eyes open. Literally. Even after the end of peak growing season—June through August, abouts—I didn’t seem to have the energy I’m used to having. Knowing I had the next step prepared and then being holistically reinvigorated by the amazing spirit and inexpressibly deep friendships of Team Chuuk, led to a profound change coming over me. No more drooping eyelids, no more longing for bed when hanging out with friends at night. The fire is back!

It’s so damn cold in the Midwest today, the University closed down. So, I’m off work and figured this a good opportunity for an update. Not sure if they’ll ever get more frequent than the twice a year deal I seem to have going on now, but hey, it’s something. Certainly is keeping track of the travels.

A Traveling Porter continues into uncharted territory of financial stability, professionalism, and adulthood. Thanks for following along.

Mid Season

Road to the Sankanac CSA garden

It's July. It's July, and the farm is in full swing. The fields and greenhouses are full of food, the propagation room and hardening tables with seedling, the fruit trees and bushes with ripening bliss, and the days with hard, delightful, sweaty work. Since the video tour, I've become an agricultural apprentice, so I'm full time in the garden and just evenings and a half day on Saturday in Serena House. Deepening my involvement and responsibilities in this way has been amazing. I'm learning so much about all aspects, it'd take some time just to list it all. We'll skip that, save to say I feel more capable every day and see myself carrying on with the agricultural lifestyle for some time. There's so much purpose infused into every day I spend on the farm, such direct connection of work to outcome to reason, the why of it all. It's good stuff, and I dig it.

Clearing weeds

I'm also super fortunate that the folks I work with are tremendous people. The two other apprentices, Brady and Anna, are hardworking, intelligent, down to earth folks with great passion for farming. We all come to the garden for different reasons, but they compliment, converge, rather than drive apart. Also, we have two interns, Shay and Nikki who are excellent. Shay was actually an apprentice for nearly two years, about half her time overlapping with the beginning of mine. To have her back as part of the full time crew is unbelievably great. Then there's the head gardener Todd and his wife Mary, our villager crew, Beth, Andy, Lisa and Nathaniel, and our two regular workshop leaders (young village coworkers who lead the villager crew) Joelle (mornings) and Eliza (afternoons). Finally, we have a number of coworkers who are in the garden for one or two mornings/afternoons a week. It's a pretty sizable crew and we've really started to knock out some good projects.

Italian Dwarf Shelling beans and amaranth

Red Garnet Amaranth

We've been dealing with a very wet summer out here, the wettest June on record and so far July is following the trend. So keeping on top of field work and weeds has been a challenge. Weeds keep slipping past the hoe-able stage and fields sit, needing plowed, disced, beds formed, what-have-you and then trays of seedlings sit on the hardening table or in the greenhouse. But, we have found some windows, made a pretty good push on planting and seeding this past week. With the aid of some school and summer program groups we've pulled at least even with the weeds as well. Celery looks to be going down to early blight, possibly taking celeriac with it, our lettuce situation could get sad in a couple weeks, and winter squash is at the perfect point to go in the ground, but it's field needs rows made first. Our cooler's been jammed full with cukes, zukes, summer squash and cabbage, the tomatoes are coming on the board for next week, as are early red potatoes and carrots. The blackberries are coming ripe along with our peaches and red raspberries. The cherry tomatoes are kicking major fruit, and the peppers and eggplant look gorgeous. So many jalapenos already! The backlog of work has put our horses out at pasture more than in the field, which is a bummer. They must be pretty bored, but I did get out a couple of times with our riding cultivator to hill potatoes, strawberries and sweet potatoes. That was amazing. It's definitely our most demanding riding implement (the walk-behind plow was at least as challenging) and it's just a blast... when everything's working right. We brought in four feeder pigs to raise up over the season, too, which replaced the three we raised over the winter and had butchered this spring. Otherwise, I've been getting some solid tractor time in, part of which has been prepping a new five-acre field the dairy here turned over to us. That's going to be a really exciting project, give us some new and crucial rotational options and practice at growing feed for the cows/horses.

Basil, sunflowers and thyme

Beyond the main garden, I keep a couple personal garden plots. One is behind Serena and mostly herbs, though I do have some garlic, potatoes, three types of beans, tomatoes, amaranth (kind of like spinach and quinoa combined) and flowers in there as well. The other is up in our hilltop vineyard, growing shelling beans, amaranth, winter squash, sunflowers, scallions, chives, basil, oregano and thyme. The smelly stuff is mostly to deter deer from descending upon my beans, but we'll see how that works out. The gardens are something I get into during my off-time, maybe an evening here and a Sunday there. So far they're turning out real nicely. My main interest with them is for the storage crops--shelling beans and amaranth for seed grain. I want to get an idea of what it takes to grow food for winter, as well as what challenges come along the way (growing, processing, storing). It's been a blast so far.

Kabocha and Butternut winter squash

Basil

Life's pretty quiet else wise. After work on Saturday evenings, I tend to get up into my amaranth/bean/squash garden for some weeding and thinning. Coffee, breakfast and the paper Sunday mornings. Maybe another trip to the main garden to do this or that thing we missed during the week. Did get into Philly to visit my buddy Brian and his wife Sheila last weekend, which was great, and I got out to a concert with most the garden crew this past Friday evening. Took Eleanor (a villager in Serena House) out for ice cream yesterday and Karen (the householder in Serena--kinda my boss) to coffee today for her birthday. So my social calendar is reasonably full, too. It's a good life. Hope you're all lovin' yours and living the Dream.

Romain surprise

Camphill Kimberton Video Tour

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Folding

Anyone who plays poker has gotten a bad hand from time to time. The deal doesn’t always go your way, so you through in your cards. Hope for better luck and a shot at the pot next time.

The idea of folding—cutting your losses—applies well beyond card games. This summer, it came home to roost on the blueberry farm. The kind of drought that only hits once or twice a century settled into central Illinois for 2012. Well, really it started last year. Anyhow, after consulting with various luminaries in the horticultural sciences, I’ve learned plants are pretty big fans of water and are known to get down right mopey when they don’t get it. Add in the slightly less obvious consequences of an early spring and somewhat late frost as well as severe pruning; you get a recipe for sad sack blueberry bushes. 

The weather turned warm early in the northern Corn Belt this year. I remember doing survey work in late January through mid-February, driving around with the windows down and the scent of spring wafting on the breeze. Might have even noted that observation one too many times to keep my survey partner interested. Point is, the thaw and heat wake up plants that lie dormant over winter—like blueberry bushes, for example. Alone, it might just have meant an early season for the berries, maybe a better chance to beat Michigan to the markets—most berries come out of Michigan, wicked cheap. Put a semi-late frost into the mix, and you still get an early season but one with far less fruit. When the bushes wake up, they start to flower. Pollen attracts bees, which fly around, helping the bushes make sweet, sweet love to each other. The stomach of each blossom that gets knocked up during such spring time promiscuity gradually turns from an innie to an outtie, rolling back the base of its petals till they make the distinctive little crown worn by blueberries. Freezing temperatures kill the flowers before they can see their little ones grow. So it was this year. Many a blossoming young maiden fell to the patch floor, never knowing the touch of a bumblebee or the joy of motherhood. 

Now, it may seem morbid to talk about the plants in terms of mothers and children. But pour the sweat of your brow and strength of your back into caring for living, growing things and see if they don’t start to feel like family. Maybe I’m just strange. Maybe you wouldn’t get the same sentiment. Or maybe I’m not too out there, and you just might be moved to see the life cycle playing out, aided by your hands. Also possible your hands might do less clearly helpful things. Blueberry bushes like to be pruned, especially old ones. It can rejuvenate a patch to whack it back after years of neglect. However, that means fewer branches, branches that would have made blossoms. Take away the possibility of flowers, then have a frost kill a bunch of what did grow, and top it all off with an unrelenting drought… well, the result is a pretty trying time for a berry family, or (tying it back to the start) a real shit hand in the game of blueberry farming. 

It’s not just the berry farmers taking a hit this year, either. Droughts are hard on all growers. That’s part of life in agriculture. Some years are plentiful, some are not. An established farm can often handle those kinds of ups and downs. It gets more precarious when you extend yourself, take out a loan, arrange a lease, start a new venture. It’s sweet when you jump into an immediately lucrative situation, less so when it starts off rocky. The latter is what went down for my employer this season. It’s got him skittish, worried about his finances and family well-being. Though he’s already anted up—on the lease, the labor, all that jazz—to keep paying interns would be like raising the stakes. Sometimes that’s alright, when your hand is good enough. Sometimes it’s less attractive, like when your possible straight dissolved into naught. The blueberries are done for the year, our small gardens not nearly productive or lucrative enough to justify transportation and employee costs. Thus, my boss is folding, which means I’m out a job. 

In a couple days, I’ll be headed to Boise for the remainder of the summer, until Labor Day (does that count as ironic?), when I start the journey to Pennsylvania for my next job. Leaving things unfinished isn’t my favorite pastime, nor is mooching off my folks. Yet, I’m grateful to be able to spend some time in my hometown, see friends and family, get ready for the upcoming year. I’ll miss tending to and seeing the growth of our gardens. So many plants are just coming into fruit and ripening: pumpkins, squashes, zucchinis, beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, amaranth, watermelon. It’s disappointing to think of them going uncared for, drying up and dying, or going to waste. Things don’t always work out like you plan, the old cliché goes. Hopefully the next deal finds me with better cards and a shot at the pot.

Farm Pics

Check out Dignity Farms facebook page to see photos from the farm! Click it!

Thinking one step ahead

I've just barely kicked off the summer of farm interning, and it's been grand so far. Yet, it's too short to get real comfortable and put off planning for the next thing. Not sure if you do much backpacking, but it's kind of like hiking in at the beginning of a trip, not having already decided which site you'll camp at. Stomping up the mountain towards the lakes, there'll be signs along the way telling you names of and distances to the lakes. My buddy Nick and I will often chat about which lake to go to along the way, dissecting the names, how long it'll take, and then which forks in the path look most interesting. Well, right now, I can see the next fork coming and needed to start deciding which way to go. Turns out, it's east.

I'm really enjoying farm work and craving more experience. But more so, I want to connect the work to people, especially kids and folks who could particularly benefit from getting in touch with the soil. There are so many options out there for farming, for community work, outdoors conservation or education, and so on. It can be kind of tough to narrow it down. Wasn't the case for me. I thought, 'how about AmeriCorps?' First time I browsed environmental positions I saw this place in Pennsylvania, Kimberton Hills. It's community living, centered on sustainable agriculture and takes extra measures to fully incorporate persons with developmental disabilities. Right up my alley.

I applied through AmeriCorps, and the place sent along a supplemental application. The end of the supplemental part asked for an autobiography. Never seen that before, and it was a cool way to really think about why I'm taking this fork. Here's what I wrote:

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Please write a brief autobiography, written in a narrative rather than a vitae format indicating significant experiences that have shaped who you are. Use this space to tell us important information that has not been sufficiently addressed in the application.

A friend just asked me this morning what’s led to my interest in farming. As I reflected on that, the foundation was clearly my family’s connection to the outdoors, time spent in natural settings and being taught about our responsibilities as stewards of those spaces. Throughout my childhood, we spent countless days camping, backpacking, hiking, fishing, canoeing, crabbing, boating, walking the Oregon Coast beaches, picnicking in local parks, skiing, and more. Backpacking was the real core of it all, though. Taking to the mountains—bringing no more than we could carry—instilled in me a deep and lasting love for just being in the natural environment.

Yet, I was a bit aimless in younger years, lacking personal direction. ‘The Path’ had been well laid out for me: do well in high school, so you get into a good college, so you get a good education and land a good job, so you’ll have what you need. It seemed straightforward enough for me, even if being somewhat less than inspiring. I’d been raised well enough to be able to get through an undergraduate degree on little more than an interest in my fields of study (sociology and psychology) and some vague ideas about what I might want to pursue later on.

After graduation, I idled around Portland, Oregon for a year and a half, working a couple jobs and enjoying time with friends and in the wilderness. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted to build myself up, take on something challenging and aimed at benefiting someone or something other than just me. And I wanted to get out of the U.S. The avenue I found was Master’s International, a joint graduate program between the Peace Corps and about four-dozen cooperating universities. A year of course work and two years of Peace Corps, ending with an MA and some amazing life experience—sounded excellent to me.

Illinois State University offered the only sociology program at the time I was applying, which made the decision of where to go pretty easy. I knew Portland wasn’t a good spot for me to be, though, while putting together my application materials. Life was too cushy there, too self-centered, and my work wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as I needed—outdoor store. A move was in order, as was new employment. I headed back to my hometown: Boise, Idaho. My folks took me in once more, and I found work with S.L. Start, one of the jobs I described above. Also helped coached my high school’s men’s lacrosse team, and over the course of about a year I submitted applications and was accepted to ISU as well as nominated for Peace Corps service.

For the 2008-2009 school year, I took courses in sociology and economics with a programmatic focus on community development and a personal focus on environmental sociology. Each course brought new and interesting ideas to my attention, but it was a spring seminar on the U.S. and international agri-food systems that really rocked my world. The whole year’s study on the relationship between humanity and the natural environment and the process of development coalesced in that course. Innumerable connections formed between food production, distribution, social justice, community health, environmental sustainability and so much of my personal philosophy on Life and relationships. By the end of coursework, I was convinced food was foundational to almost all aspects of community development and ecosystem sustainability.

The two years spent in Micronesia only strengthened my perception of the inseparability of food, community and justice. A major driving force in choosing to do the Master’s International program had been to discern where my future labors lay, and I knew I’d done just that. Growing food in ways that could nourish not only people, but also full communities and the land became my goal. How to actually accomplish that… well, I’m still working on it. What I do know is that I need some real experience to go with the theory. So I signed on for an internship this summer with a local, organic farm in central Illinois. I’m also doing some traveling (writing from northern Michigan, right now, where I’ve been helping out on another farm and visiting friends), seeing other approaches to farming. The goal is to get a solid foundation in actually growing food and increasing my familiarity and capacity in working with the Earth.

From this summer, the next step is to get into community-centered agriculture, find a place and people who take a holistic approach to farming. I want to see and be a part of an intentional effort to bring together the planet, growing food, building community and sharing Life. I’m committed learning how to incorporate that effort into my future work as well as simply spending more time farming. To live the farm life for at least a full year, experience the seasons and what each brings. To see animals and vegetation and people and economics all brought together into one place and one design: that’s what I want. Camphill at Kimberton Hills does that in a way few other places I’ve found manage, and wonderfully, there’s an opportunity to join in.

Team Chuuk Music Video

While in Chicago, Team Chuuk put on a clinic for the Windy City residents. Watch the awesome. Watch it.

Chuuk Kids

A thought

I'm nearly finished at Illinois State University and will soon move to a small blueberry farm with two great friends from my time in Micronesia. So much excitement fills me when I think about the months ahead. Yet, I know they'll be short months, and something needs to come after. With that in mind, I've started poking around, contemplating where I'll go next and what I'll do there. AmeriCorps is standing out to me, so I put together an application and asked around for references. One of the people I contacted was a Peace Corps staffer who I got to know during my service. She was willing to do that for me, and shockingly quickly. In her response to my request Janeen said a couple things that got me reflecting, and here's what came out:

"Janeen,
Thank you so much for filling out and submitting that reference. And so quickly! I really appreciate your time and willingness to help. I consumed more than my fair share of both during the final months of my service, which just makes it that much kinder for you to extend yourself on my behalf now. Thank you.

In case you're interested, a link for the position I've applied to is below. I've no doubt it will be wildly different than Peace Corps, and amazing in its own right. This job is at an intentional living community, populated by families, young and old, and adults with developmental disabilities. Really an integrated place, though I'd suspect the people there might be somewhat homogeneous in terms of perspectives, politics, etc. Sustainable agriculture and interwoven labor, community, craft and celebration of Life are core values, which no doubt sounds pretty crunchy but also an absolutely delightful place to spend a year or two. They have 'volunteer' opportunities available for farm apprentices too, outside of AmeriCorps that I'll probably apply for. Will definitely let you know if they offer me a position.

https://my.americorps.gov/mp/listing/viewListing.do?id=5000

The U.S. has certainly looked and felt different since coming back. Nuance. My perspective was profoundly infused with nuance. There are more blemishes and more sore spots, but they're thrown into contrast by greater depths of beauty and appreciation. I love my home more and more honestly than I did before, but I also take it to task more often and more honestly. I think you're right when you say, 'maybe you can never go back.' The person who flew out of L.A. in September 2009 isn't the same guy who left Micronesia in August 2011, and that's the difference. You can never really go back, not because home is any different or isn't there, but because the person who left home isn't here anymore, not fully. And it's precisely a result of that 'tremendous and irreplaceable' gift received during Peace Corps: Life. I've more Life in me, more humanity, and brought more of both back to the States. Some of it is hard and wearisome, but mostly it's invigorating, joyful and driving. I'm grateful for that, filled with gratitude for the people of Woleai, Houk, Yap, Chuuk and Pohnpei, gratitude for Peace Corps, for you and all the shoali Peace Corps lani faliuwashe (people of Peace Corps in our islands).

That's pretty gushy, sorry. I got into a reflective moment after reading your email. It elicited some thoughts that have been swirling around for a few months now, and just coalesced in the response. I'll keep it more levelheaded in the future.

Thank you again, Janeen,
Be well,
Porter"